


summertime record

by chillychillywilly



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: M/M, Minor character death(?), a lot of foreshadowing, cheesy villian backstories, is it night owl or bat owl? nobody knows, reporter craig!!, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillychillywilly/pseuds/chillychillywilly
Summary: uhhh this is a superhero au!!! I don't really have much explanation other than:- i like plot twists- angst is my guilty pleasure- rarepairs will be the death of me





	summertime record

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot i had ao3 i should maybe finish my other fics

This is his reality now. A horrible, pitiful, fictional reality. The sun burns down on him and the streets, the smell of blood overwhelming and making him cringe.

Brock can't bring himself to move. Night Owl is up there, fighting and yelling and screaming, and yet, he's doing _nothing._ Nothing at all to help Jonathan or see if he's okay. Did nobody care that he just got crushed by a crumbling building?! He could be dead!

Now, Brock isn't one to fight. He's not one to really be angry. But now? Brock is _pissed._ He was too late to come get Jonathan and now he's dead, all thanks to that stupid owl.

Brock, without thinking, rushes fowards and past the two fighting men- one good and one bad. One of them screams at him to stop, the other staring at him wide eyed. He doesn't care about them, he wants Jonathan safe and sound and _alive_.

There's a beam of light coming at a lamppost. It falls. Brock can feel the heat against his skin mixing with the frigid cold of the beam. The second the lamppost hits the ground, Brock feels a strong force send him back with a loud **_BANG_** that shakes him to his very core.

  
_It exploded. Why?_

Brock can barely register the feeling of arms wrapping around him tightly, pulling him away from the rubble and Jonathan. He screams. He tries to reach out and break free. It's no use, everything is blurry and melting together as his world comes crashing down around him in the form of a certain feathered hero pulling him away from an explosion. The last thing he remembers seeing, as he turns his head to face his savior, is the sight of something golden sparking in the light.

  


* * *

  


He wakes up in a hospital. The lights are a bright white around him, and his chest hurts like hell. He sits up and looks around.

Nobody's there. Jonathan isn't there. Not even a doctor.

It's a while until the doctor comes in. He checks over Brock and tells him that he's lucky that he was saved. “He's the hero this city needs,” the doctor chuckles.

Brock feels resentment in his chest. It's a burning sensation building within him, slowly fueling itself. “Where's Jonathan?” His voice is low and void of any emotion. It's a sudden change of disposition and it scares him as much as it scares the doctor.

“Jonathan? I don't know. You were the only civilian that needed saving,” the doctor says thoughtfully. “Your friend must be at home, do you want to call him?”

Brock laughs weakly. “No,” he answers. “Jonathan was there. He was there, and there was Night Owl and that ice dude and- and- the car went at him and the building fell and- I tried- I wanted…”

Brock falls silent. The doctor is staring down at the papers in confusion, glancing between the papers and Brock almost worriedly. “There was nobody else at the scene. We checked every last nook and cranny. Nobody else. Not even a body.”

_That's not right. It's not good either._

“I was too late….” Brock feels his eyes begin to water. He says nothing else to the doctor and instead stares down at his hands. They were a little bruised but otherwise okay. In fact, the only problem with him is that his body felt a bit sore right now. Why is he even in here?

He doesn't need to be in here. He has to go find Jon, he _has_ to. So he stands up. Nothing hurts besides his legs which ache slightly. The doctor is stunned as Brock walks out of the room. Suddenly his legs are moving as fast as his mind is, carrying him straight down the hall to the stairs (Brock refuses to wait for an elevator) and right out the front doors. He's panting lightly, his legs and chest are starting to hurt, but he doesn't care. He just needs to find Jonathan and make sure he's okay. That's all he wants…

He runs down the street, around the corner and down some more.

When he arrives at the scene of the crime, there's nothing there. The whole place has been cleaned up. It's like nothing happened. 

And worst of all... there was no sign of Jonathan.

Brock feels his eyes begin to water. This can't be real. It just _can't._  Tears start to fall as he drops to his knees, sniffling and sobbing quietly. A hand is placed on his back, making him look up at the person behind him.

An Asian man is standing there. He gives Brock a worried look, concern in his eyes. “What's wrong?”

Brock sniffles again. “My- My friend was stuck here, in- in the building that was here.. It was his tattoo shop,” he sobs. “There was some villain here, and- and the- the owl… They fought and the shop collapsed as I got- got here to take him home. He's gone,” Brock continues. “He's gone…”

The man seems concerned. He looks around. “Not even a body?”

“No…. They- they said none was found,” Brock says inbetween sobs. He's in hysterics now, unable to stop himself. “That stupid owl didn't lift a finger to help him! Nobody did!”

“Hey,” the man says soothingly. “I'm sure… I'm sure they did all they could. Night Owl did his best, and so did the police, I'm sure of it. They can't save everyone…”

Brock looks up at him through teary eyes. Why does this man look so familiar? He can't quite place it, but he's sure that he's met this guy before…

He wipes his tears away. “Where did you get that necklace from?” Brock has just now noticed the man's strange owl necklace. It's a simple necklace, a black string with an owl charm at the bottom. The owl’s eyes are a vivid yellow, standing out from the golden color of the owl's body. _And yet it looks so familiar…_ “I could've sworn I've seen that before…”

The man looks slightly nervous now. “Do you?”

“Yeah. I- I don't know where though.”

“Oh.” He looks relieved. “We probably ran into each other on the street before. Or maybe you saw my boyfriend with it? It's custom made, so I really doubt that anyone else has one.”

Brock nods silently. His tears are gone, his eyes left dry and red. As the man begins to walk away, Brock notices the way the necklace sparkles in the light. And _god_ does it look familiar.

“Night Owl,” Brock mutters. “You know it's your fault…. And yet you still walk away.” He laughs, tears beginning to fall again.

“Don't think I'll forget this...”


End file.
